


His favorite time of day

by Cdarkheartzero



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Character Study, Developing Friendships, Fluff, M/M, Male Friendship, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdarkheartzero/pseuds/Cdarkheartzero
Summary: A look into Zim’s morning routine where he reflects his relationships with those around him and pieces together how these bonds have gotten him to where- and who- he is today.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), GIR & Minimoose & Zim (Invader Zim), GIR & Zim (Invader Zim), Invader Skoodge & Zim, Invader Skoodge/Zim, Minimoose & Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	His favorite time of day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaithfulWhispers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaithfulWhispers/gifts).



> A gift I wrote to my best bro when she needed a pick-me-up. I have never written a fic before and I am super nervous about posting it. I hope you all can enjoy it.

Being a CLEARLY SUPERIOR intergalactic creature certainly had it’s benefits, especially compared to the mushy, filthy worms the Irken had to begudgingly interact with day in and day out on Urth. He used to be astonished by the native’s nightly necessity of “sleep”. Their disgusting meat sacks needing time to generate energy and their brains basically giving them a lucid series of illusions comprised of mostly (from what he was able to put together) utter nonsense. 

Of coarse, Zim never NEEDED to put his body to rest. His people considered it a waste of precious time. After all, productivity can skyrocket when their flesh isn’t fighting to drag them into heavy dreams, so his species altered their biological data, overwriting the need for such an inconvenience. That’s not to say the mighty warrior race never indulged in a quick nap to relax or waste time occasionally, but it was never necessary. 

Zim rarely partook in the activity, personally. Usually opting to working in his lab, buried deep, deep in the planet’s core, tinkering on odds and ends for the duration of each day. He forced his brain to fixate feverishly on each task, preventing his inner demons from arising, stating damagingly blunt truths and causing the small, yet incredibly fierce elite to come crashing down in an emotional heap. 

Unfortunately, losing such a significant activity had the awful side affect of making time meaningless. Zim often lost track of it, relying on an internal alarm clock to make him aware of the hour of day. 

Today, while in the midst of screwing this one piece into his newest contraption, there was a sudden gentle tune releasing itself from his PAK, filling the air pleasantly. His antenna perked. “Was it THAT time already? Best make my rounds” he thought. 

Quickly and efficiently, his supplies were put away, cleaning his desk off completely. Everything was to be neat and organized. Straight and perfect. Pristine and presentable. It was something taught through his many years of intense military training that had drilled itself into his very being. He wished he could be more relaxed and carefree like his home’s other residents but alas, this cleaning demon wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Zim accepted this is just who he is and there is nothing he could do to change that. 

Wandering through his lab, eyes sharply shifting around, taking in his atmosphere and keeping mental notes of anything that needed to be done later or something slightly out of place to be adjusted. The light echo of his footsteps bouncing off the steel around him, caused this uncomfortable feeling of being utterly alone. Zim loved his lab. He just wished it didn’t feel so.... cold. 

Walking past one doorway, he peeked in to see the large television screen still lit, illuminating the fairly empty room, but instead of the sound of nonsensical human entertainment (or worse. Human commercials), there was utter silence. “Are you still watching?” Is what the bright screen read. 

He approached the neighboring sofa quietly and smiled at the sight of this adorable death machine soundly sleeping with the remote close at hand. Watching the small purple creature smirk and flinch in his unconscious state, he couldn’t help but be entranced by it’s precious charm. Grabbing for the device and pushing the button, the room was brought to a calming darkness. Reaching to the back of the sofa, he unfolded a tackily decorated throw blanket, one Gir INSISTED they order from that bazaar holiday catalogue, gently draping it over the snoozing creature. Zim let out a small giggle as small moose hugged into the soft material instantly. 

Compassion. A trait deemed useless by his kind. Something he had always had inside of him as a “Defective”. That term to this day still brought heavy stress upon him. Buried deep with in, sat a loving, beautiful seed only given life from years of being banished to this ball of dirt and filth, learning to “humanize”. Caring for others. Putting one’s needs above your own. Besides the tallest and the tallers, everyone was treated the same in his home planet. Like they meant nothing. Totally Disposable. But these creatures in his home.... he needed them all safe. He needed them all happy. 

There was a flash in his Mind- one instance where this small moose showed his newfound master “compassion”. Zim’s darkest days in which he had locked himself away in a secluded room for many sunsets and sunrises, missing school without so much of a thought. He was having as the humans called it “an episode”. The tallest had abandoned him. Banished him. Any attempt to contact them ended in glorious failure. The longer he desperately cried for his beloved leaders, hoping to beg for forgiveness just one more time, the more this black pit in his soul grew and tore away at the rest of him. 

There he was, at his lowest point, laying on the floor in front of a monitor staring at the same image for what seemed like an eternity. “Call declined”. His mind raced and was blank at the same time- a phenomena he hadn’t experienced before. This weight heavier and more powerful than any gravitational pull space had to offer sinking into his chest. His eyes burned from relentless sobbing. His body weak and frail from malnutrition. He was pitiful and ashamed of what he had become. No. What he was to begin with. 

He hesitantly rested his hand on his back, feeling the cool metal pierced into his spine. It wasn’t worth it anymore. Living. Existing. He had failed his empire. He had failed his Tallest. He had failed himself. He snorted a small laugh. Perhaps it was best this way,thoughts racing as the PAK released itself in his gentle grasp and placed on the floor next to the alien. 

Within no time, he could feel his mind clouding. His spooch heavy, slowly beating fainter and fainter. His breathing, once jagged, was now a barley audible gasp. Eye lids getting heavy.... finally. The blackness of “The End” wrapped around him. this was it. This constant pain would be over. 

So, Imagine his surprise when, in the darkness, he suddenly felt two wires dig into his back, tying around his spine and spreading though his core. Every metallic thread pumping life back into the Irken. His organic brain trying to comprehend the situation while the artificial brain swiftly focusing on stabilizing the failing form’s vitals. Within a moment, his eyelids peeled open and was met with the worried eyes of a small, ungodly moosey creation. 

Zim’s vision blurred with tears, throat dry, painfully so as he mustered the strength to ask “why did you stop me?”. The creature looked at the elite, a blank expression painted on this canvas and simply said “Nyah”. “It will get better.” It was such a simple sentence. Something that shouldn’t have tore at the soldier’s hardened skin the way it did. And yet, he was powerless to stop the deep sob that escaped his very soul. The creature slowly crawled toward the Irken, not saying another word as he nudged into Zim’s chest, cradling his broken master. 

“That was unusual” Zim thought to himself , snapping out of his trance and going about his way. Turning corner after corner, he arrived to his next destination. The laundry room. The door swiftly lifted upwards and he quietly crept in the room, attempting not to wake the resting body snoring loudly from the hammock on the space’s other side . 

Consideration. Thinking of how your actions effect those around you. This was a particularly difficult thing for him to learn. But it was true. Zim not thinking properly lead to him leveling his home planet and being banished to be a slave in the food industry. Stealing Tak’s mission. Throwing earth into the florpus. How simple minded he was. His first conclusion to his behavior was to blame the selfishness of his people, a fact only partially true. He knew better now though. It’s not entirely what he was taught. It was what he was. Still, now he would carefully think everything through, exploring cause and effects to even the most mundane tasks. Just another thing that made him “different” he supposed. 

He carefully opened the dryer, slowly pulling out its contents. Thankfully it was just the two items. He contemplated adding an additional load into the machine but took a glimpse at the sleeping Irken the distance. He supposed he would tackle that later when his Comrade was awake. A brother in arms. Another pawn to the armada’s abuse. 

Again his mind race- flinging him from reality and back into another daydream. “Sacrifice”. The act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy. 

Planet Zork. A memory most unusual, making it difficult to explain clearly to another. One that only came to be once the two Irkens came together many years later to discuss the turning point in their relationship as “friends.” A creation of both Zim’s hazy pieces of the events spiced with hidden details only Skoodge would have. In essence, it was Zim’s Frankenstein memory of the two points of view smooshed and weaved together so tight, Zim couldn’t distinguish which points had truly been his. 

Freshly landed on enemy soil, The planet was the new arrivals very first exercise in a real battlefield. A civilization that had been almost fully captured by the Armada, except the growing pains known as the rebellion attempting to hold onto their shrinking freedom. 

Here they were, these two recruits traveling the vast and broken terrain, frantically searching for their lost party. They were alone. In incredibly hostile enemy land. And although Skoodge has been training for much longer than Zim had, it didn’t make the situation any less terrifying. 

Skoodge wasn’t a coward by any means. Even in the short amount of time Zim saw him as soldier, he never saw the invader run. But Zim would read his facial expressions clearly. He was terrified and trying desperately to hide it. Zim was plenty frightened himself but chose to comfort his ally with some small talk (mostly shit talking other soldiers that he felt were inferior and laughable). The atmosphere changed rather quickly after that. Almost pleasant in a way, much like their youth. 

They eventually stumbled their way into a canyon and took a small breather, hiding within nature’s cracks and crevices. The Two sat, staring into the sky for a moment.  
“This sucks.”  
Skoodge laughed, caught completely off guard by the sudden conversation. “Yeah. It does. But you get used to it. You’ll have your first kill soon enough. After you do that, you can deal with anything.”  
Zim stared at him, eyes and face void of emotion. “Who’s to say I haven’t spilled blood before?”  
“Huh?”  
“I got transferred here as punishment. You weren’t informed? Zim was sent to the science division after the smeetery. But an experiment became uncontrollable and killed the two previous tallest, throwing Zim here.” 

Skoodge was taken aback yet again. Zim wondered if it was the right thing to do: tell someone about his horrendous crime. He honestly wasn’t sure WHY it blurted out of his face, but here it was. The truth out there. And now the two sat uncomfortably, coated with a thin layer of sweat in the blazing heat trying to figure out what came next. On an enemy planet... just the two of them... this was not ideal. Perhaps Skoodge would abandon him out here? Maybe be the one to kill him and avenge the fallen Tallest? No. It wasn’t his style... he had never abandoned Zim in their youth when the two ventured off to cause mischief. He studied Skoodge’s face, trying to pinpoint his thoughts. There was pregnant pause. 

“Oh yeah.” Skoodge muttered. 

“Oh yeah?” Zim thought to himself. Is that really ALL HE HAD TO SAY??? 

The stout soldier looked over with a slight smile, it was sad but heartfelt and certainly not what Zim was expecting. “I guess I forgot. They told me about that. I mean... EVERYONE KNOWS. But, I dunno... I can’t blame you for an honest accident. And I have literally known you since we were smeets so...oh well.” He said casually throwing his arms in a shrug. 

Zim was besides himself in confusion, irritation, his mind and emotions racing, pulling and ripping him at the seams. Everyone else has treated him like a nuisance since he arrived here so what was THIS? A trick? He deserved no comrades! Nor did he need such a crutch! Would he give his trust and get stabbed in the back later? Was this pity? SYMPATHY? Disgust? Their past meant nothing now! Zim didn’t understand! Sure they had been close in their youth but this was different! This was real! 

“Is that it? You feel bad for me?” He screeched, standing up. Skoodge jumped up, panic in his voice  
“WHAT?! NO! Not at all-! I’m just saying-!”  
“Save it! Zim does not need to be pitied! He will do just fine alone! Zim needs no one!”  
“Zim! Wait! I don’t know what’s going on but please-! We have to stay together!”  
“Or what, Skoodge?! We are already alone in a desert on an enemy planet! There is no hope for us now! The only reason you will die here is because you are with Zim- everyone else will leave us behind! They will be happy to get rid of us! Of me-! I deserve no sympathy for my-“  
“Whoa-!” Skoodge cut him off, seeing Zim’s eyes swell with tears, mouth silently whispered a single word- “defectiveness.”“Easy, man-“ Skoodge cautiously muttered “I don’t know what’s going on but it’s gunna be okay. I’m not giving you sympathy. I’m not trying to talk down to you. I want you to trust me so we can get out of this.” 

A nearby shuffling sound immediately brought tension as the two small soldiers were shadowed by a group of 16 tall, hostile resistance members, each one’s eyes more murderous than the last. This was BAD. SO BAD. It seemed Zim’s eruption caught the attention of danger and Zim was kicking himself in the face for it. Of coarse he messed up again. As he always did. He was so useless! And now-! Another casualty on his conscious! 

Skoodge reached for his comrade in hopes of running to a higher space, praying having the higher grounds would help their chances of success. PAK legs ejecting out at lightning speeds, however the second the metallic limbs crawled out, Skoodge realized he was staring down the barrel of what seemed like a thousand blasters. 

His stout, firm body froze as though struck with liquid nitrogen... he couldn’t move if he wanted to. Even his words were failing him! In panic, he searched his brain(s) to discover a technique he could use... a training he has survived... ANYTHING to use to escape! 

His eyes shifted to the defect, shocked by the forceful, determined eyes silently threatening the small army. Zim sternly but slowly stepped in front of the trainee, in the line of fire and it became abundantly clear- he was not going to back down. 

“Zim can do this.” He said, never facing backwards. Suddenly, Skoodge was thrown to the side, cascading down a deep pit. Falling, desperately trying to cling to anything and make his way back up. Why would Zim throw himself to the monsters to save a nobody like SKOODGE?! A disgusting, useless soldier-in-training with no future besides being a weapon of war? Irkens don’t sacrifice themselves for anyone but their tallest! Even ones that that were considered friends at one point! 

His PAK legs stabbed into the crumbling terrain, skidding and chipping at the crevice he was spiraling downwards. Finally! He had found his footing! There was a roaring sound of battle above, the very sounds of bullets and screaming echoing the canyons, sounding as though the heavens above were at war. 

He climbed up- desperate, praying to whatever he could that the new recruit was somehow fine-! Never had he been saved before. Never had someone stepped forward to assist this disgusting, short stain of the empire. Never was he treated like...like his life mattered. 

Reaching the summit, he pulled himself up to see sheer carnage and immediately shut his eyes again. His hand even resting in a puddle of guts as he attempted to finally stand on stable grounds. Lids glued tight, He hoped that the squishy sound beneath him would not be a very vibrant green or pink with entrails he was able to identify. Please-! Let Zim be okay. 

The magenta eyes opened to reveal the tiny soldier covered in the grotesque innards of his enemies, splashed in so many different substances that his green skin was completely hidden by the rainbow of colors. Mystery steam thickening the already humid air. He assumed it was pouring out of each gaping hole viciously inserted into the alien cadavers. The sun reflecting off the various liquids, coating the elite in a victorious illumination. 

Skoodge stood still, basking in Zim’s magnificent success until he realized the steam choking him was not coming from the enemy’s bodies... it was coming from his companion’s back! The small Irken swayed as floods of smoke engulfed him, his paling form quickly losing strength and caving into itself. 

Skoodge ran as quickly as he could over to catch the elite as he fell. His body warm to the touch, even through the gloves, his PAK hissing, Damn near melting through the uniform armor upon impact. He flinched at the pain but still held the soldier close. 

It was only then his hand graced the cords connecting Zim’s lifeline to his twin pistols. He used his PAK as a battery for his weapons! 

“I-I.... why did you do that? You are overheating!”  
“Zim.... told you he...*gasp* had this....”  
“But why did you save me? Why wouldn’t you let me help you?!”

As hard as Skoodge glared at Zim, he was surprised to how gentle he was being cradled, albeit quite shakily. Zim knew what he wanted to say to this emotional wreck. He did it because he didn’t want another person to die because of his negligence. Or perhaps express how he WANTED with everything he had in him for someone to have faith in him... honest friendship, perhaps? Even Zim wasn’t sure why he did it. He was just bombarded by these thoughts, each one leading to the same conclusion: “SKOODGE NEEDS TO LIVE.” 

He has to say something but his vision was fading, his body heavy and the nothingness was setting in. He couldn’t even make out the words Skoodge’s lips spoke. It took every bit of strength he could muster but he eventually mutter something before the cold void whisked him away- even though it wasn’t what he wanted to- 

“Who... ...can ... ... say....?” 

....

The next thing he knew, he was moving. Silently watching as the blur of the world passed him by, he attempted to move his head but deemed the task too difficult. He let out a grunt- probably the only sound his aching body and soul could make that wasn’t the desire for endless screaming he was trying to subside. 

Through the throbbing physically shaking his core, reminding him he unfortunately survived, he escaped into this warmness that laid heavy on his chest. Poking into his ribs and interior mush, he could feel the shape of a PAK. He was being carried. With no energy to spare, he opted to make a grunting noise again. 

“Hey-!” The familiar voice joyfully remarked. “I’m glad to see you are up. You were in pretty bad shape. Had to keep you in the shade for about a half an hour while your PAK repaired itself. I know you probably can’t talk much...but would you mind listening?”

Zim knew there was no choice he had in the scenario to survive on his own. He laid there like dead weight, being carried away to lord knows where on a planet where 99% of its inhabitants wanted him dead. Skoodge was the only thing keeping him safe at this point so he could at least humor him with listening to whatever he had to say. He quietly hummed in agreement, barely audible but thanks to the sensitivity of Irken Lekku, Zim DIDNT have to fight the energy to do it again. 

“Thanks. For that. I found the base, we are heading back now. I get you have been through a lot but we are all each other have. Remember when we were kids and I followed you everywhere? I know you don’t wanna get hurt but, please, let me in, man. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Zim didn’t respond. Not only did he not have the will or want to but his brain couldn’t pinpoint a thought in this sea of overwhelming emotions. He made no sound and nestled into skoodge’s shoulder, closing his eyes and listening to the crunch of the gravel beneath them. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. 

Suddenly a thud. He jolted, snapping out of his trance again, staring at the items fallen from his hands. A fresh, warm, dark blue towel and a black, long trench coat on the laundry room floor. He looked over to see if the Irken had stirred but thankfully, Skoodge slept fairly deep and snoozed away blissfully. Zim knelt down to pick up what he had dropped. 

Even through his gloves, he could feel the warmth of the freshly dried coat. He buried his face into the lump, unable to fight the urge to take a whiff of the two items as he held them close to him. Both smelling like bottled, artificially created scents. They were CLEAN but Zim was always disappointed by the smell. Being a germaphobe and clean-freak, it always seemed odd to him that this scent somewhat annoyed him. And it’s not that he minded the chosen fragrance (he WAS the one who purchased them from the store after all) but it was missing something. The aroma of what came before it. It’s personalization. The old warmth of it. Oh well. 

Making his way to the elevator, he slowly rose to the base’s main level- he headed to his next stop. The house. Climbing out of the toilet in the kitchen, he was unable to contain the sigh as he laid eyes on the chaos before him. 

It seemed that an attempt was made at baking something with absolutely disastrous results. From colorful, poorly hand painted, cracked eggshells to a screwdriver covered in batter, Zim’s mind attempted to find reasons WHY Gir would do this. He knew the logic was non-existent, at least as far as his brain was concerned, but Gir probably had his own crazy reasons for the state of the room. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to seeing but was annoyed none the less. 

He kicked his way past all the crap littering the floor and aggressively flung the clean laundry to the back of a kitchen chair, choking on the venom battling to slip through the parting of his lips. Gir was on the sofa. He just had to be. And- to NO surprise- Zim was correct. His faithful robot minion was sprawled out on the couch in a horrendously uncomfortable manner, covered in trash and assorted mystery stains. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to pick the robot up by his foot and fling him into the wall. He unfortunately knew that that wasn’t the answer. He wouldn’t lie to say that Gir’s insanity didn’t eat away at his own mental health most days. However. deep down, he knew the SIR Unit was just as broken as his master. Life created by junk parts and a sick joke by the very creatures Zim promised his loyalty and dedication to all those years ago. Gir was just a simple soul. But he had always been there for the invader. 

Family. A term Zim had learned on Earth. At first, he thought it strictly meant that creatures were bonded together by their DNA. But living with Gir- with this walking, talking, nightmare of a tin can- it became apparent that “kinship” was so much more than that. Wanting the best for each other. Supporting another’s interests. Learning to deal with another’s shortcomings and yet....still enjoying their company. 

His relationship with Gir seemed simple at first. You do what I tell you to do and that’s it. But it got so much more complicated the more the two were around each other. Gir was the evil henchman one minute and the next, the two were sharing snacks in the living room, binging some show and making small talk. Honestly, those were some of Zim’s fondest recollections. 

It was such an unusual dynamic that Zim never really understood. But it always felt right having the unit by his side. A creature that could see the Irken’s internal issues and....never really cared. Just liked his Master for WHO he is. Not WHAT HE IS. 

Even though the “servant” disregarded every order and command he was given. Even though he usually caused more harm to a mission than help. Even though his nonsensical behaviors made having a “normal” conversation impossible, Gir always brought such a relieving atmosphere no matter where he went. 

Gir needed guidance though. He was a VERY NIEVE AND SIMPLE creature who knew very little about how the world (any world really) works. He spent his time lost in his maddening imagination and was overall so pleased about his existence. Zim was often jealous of his SIR Unit, prone to drowning in his own doubts, stressing about the crippling real world and always secretly hating that he was still alive. At first Gir was an enigma but the more the two connected, the more Zim learned from watching the robot’s demeanor, his interactions with those around him and his unusual ability to shrug off all problems to attempt to take those traits to better himself. Although each sector had varying success, Zim was endlessly grateful for his beloved lackey. 

Feeling his rage melting away, the elite leaned down, lightly tapping the metal forehead. The darkened eyes instantly lit with blue life as a smile stretched across the smooth, stupefied face.  
“Hi, Masta!”  
“Good morning, Gir. You made a mess in the kitchen again.”  
“I was makin’ Freezy-poops!”

Zim cared not what “freezy-poops” were, nor did he care about their ingredients. Knowing the manic little robot as best he did, he wouldn’t be surprised had there been ACTUAL fecal matter in it. He simply smiled to Gir’s face and held back the vomit slowly arising in his throat from the sheer thought of human excrement in his freezer. 

“I have to do one or two things to do. If you can get the kitchen SQUEAKY CLEAN- AND RID OF ALL TRACES OF THE “FREEZEY-POOPS”- by the time I return, I shall make you Zim’s GLORIOUS WAFFLES as a reward.” 

The Sir unit was instantly overrun with positive emotions, joy basically splitting him as the seams. “OOOOOOKAAAAAY!!!!” He screamed running towards the kitchen. A gloved hand quickly reached for the tiny metallic wrist and flung him around, stopping the Robot in his tracks. Face to face, Zim let go and slowly brought his finger to his lips. “It’s early, Gir. You must be quiet.” The calming blue eyes squinted, pairing with a salute indicating the Irken has been heard. The screaming ceased although the noise of the heavy, robotic footsteps filled the air in their stead. “That’s fine” Zim mumbled to himself as he headed back to the kitchen. He silently watched Gir frantically clean the mess as he walked into the room to get the clean laundry. Then turned away and made his way upstairs. On to the next. 

The bathroom. This was a room Zim spent veeeeery little time in and had only just recently been properly renovated. He shockingly paid very little mind to the random odds and ends left on the sink, almost used to the mess at this point. At least the floors, toilet bowl and tub were fairly well kept so this was one of those things he learned to pick and choose his battles for. 

Compromise. Another earthly custom Zim had picked up on. One giving up/bending to another demand while receiving something in return as equivalent exchange. A trade, as it were. But without an actual item to be haggled. He had given up many sacrifices for Irk. His freedom. His childhood. His flesh and blood. Comrades. His self worth. And all he got in return is humiliation, discrimination and the general feeling of worthlessness. He gave everything he was, everything he had to the Tallest. To the empire. So Imagine his shock when his beloved leaders re-emerged from the Florpus hole, disowning him and banishing him to the Milky Way Galaxy. If he reached even just a little out of the territory, he would be captured and put on trial immediately. Zim knew what would happen if he went to his home planet again. He would be murdered outright. There would be no trial. No give or take. No exchange. There would be death. 

He sighed and hung the towel up. He really HAD to stop thinking about the past. “It’s done.” He repeated you himself. This was his life now and, honestly, this was for the best. There was something here- on this ball of rock and liquid acid (water) and pollution that gave him more joy than he had ever gotten back home. A thing no monitory value could come close to. Something that held Zim’s entire life in its grasp and Zim was honestly okay with it. Scared, but accepting. 

He made his way down the hall, eager to get to his final stop. He stood at the door, lightly tugging and pulling at the coat in his hands. This wasn’t anxiety. This wasn’t nervousness. What was he feeling? He slowly grabbed the handle and with a light pull of the door, it hit him what this was. Excitement. 

The room was shrouded in darkness. He silently closed the latch behind him, put the coat in his hands on a nearby chair, never taking his eyes off the far front of the room. The room itself wasn’t extravagant by any means. Side tables on either side of the queen mattress. A headboard neatly decorated in paranormal Nicknacks and books. Lots and lots of books. There was a dresser, closet, mirror, bookshelf.... nothing really too special. When decorating the space, Zim had basically found a checklist of necessities and went on that. But this had its charm to it that the other rooms of the home did not. More personalized. 

Framed pieces on the walls of family photographs, important documents and poorly drawn art pieces gifted from Gir. The faint glow of the dark stars littered the walls and ceiling. Though Zim didn’t understand their purpose, he wouldn’t dare lie and say that they weren’t pleasant to look at when the lights were dimmed for the night. Images of trips and memories posted on every surface. He walked past the dresser with the shine of one frame catching his eye. 

Again he was trapped inside another memory. The heat and exhaustion of looooong road trip to Nevada. At first it had been pleasant. Nonsensical chats in the car. Occasional rest stop breaks with plenty of sweet treats to break up the vast, barren graveyard of landscape he was growing sick of looking at. Lots of laughs. By the second day, however, words were exchanged few and far between. The heat was becoming so unbearable. This location- a place his (then) friend had always wanted to see in person. Zim was far from interested In the voyage to begin with and thought a creature of extraterrestrial origin heading to a secretive military testing ground was nothing short of ample STUPIDITY. Begs and pleads later, here they were. And Zim was sick of all of it. The driver was growing weary of the nothingness and sore body parts but stayed strong until they finally reached their destination. Area 51. Or at least as close as they can get to it. 

Very few times in Zim’s life had he felt such disappointment. THIS? THIS SHITHOLE? In the middle of bumble-fuck nowhere???? A quick glance at his partner revealed the sentiment was not shared. The honey eyes basically glassed over with joy, stupid smirk plastered on his radiant expression. Zim sighed and carried on his way. They were not alone at the stop, unfortunately, and were met with some other paranormal enthusiasts. Zim stood from a distance, watching his ride out of this place, acting like a small child on Christmas Day (or so he had been told). He smiled to himself at the overall atmosphere pouring off the raven haired loser. It was refreshing to see, though he would never openly admit to it. 

Suddenly out of nowhere, an armed guard, chest puffed, demanded Zim and his comrade follow them to an isolated area for questions. Zim’s stomach dropped. Oh, Irk. He had been caught. Was this it for the invader? Dissection by the hands of the enemy government? Never to be heard of again? He gulped, swallowing his fear as they were lead to an office. It seemed like the better choice than running and fighting, honestly. Zim had been shot by human bullets before and although inferior to Irken weaponry, they hurt like a bitch. Maybe the two could smooth talk their way out of this. 

The two were promptly separated. So, here he was. An alien sitting alone in probably the most dangerous place he could possibly be. And he didn’t even want to go on this stupid trip! He was livid and terrified, fidgeting in his seat and tugging at his uniform. Another guard appeared, a different human from before. He cautiously asked curious questions. If Zim was okay. If he was hurt. If he knew where he was. Zim answered the guard honestly, though confused. He didn’t seem to be in danger. But why was this happening? 

Within a twenty or so minute span, the human escorted the Irken warrior outside with no further reason or explanation of what just occurred, bidding Zim a good day. He was freed? And where was his ride out of here? He patiently waited for the familiar sight of his companion. Alas, it seemed he would have to wait a bit longer in this horrible heat. He didn’t even have the keys to sit in the damn car! UGH! This trip was just getting more and more infuriating. He couldn’t believe how this mess was turning out!

The miserable earth sun did wonders on his body. Thought his PAK would keep his temperature regulated, his throat was dry and his skin tingling, the suns rays prickling at it. Finally, FINALLY, the familiar human returned, awkward and silent. Pissed? Embarrassed? What was this emotion? When Zim finally asked where he had been,the only response was “I’m starving. Let’s get food.” Not that Zim was going to complain but that wasn’t really the informative answer he searched for. 

If there was a single word Zim could find to describe the car ride back to the shitty diner a few miles back, it would be “Exasperating”. The human refused to answer a single thing, simply ignoring the Irken’s questions with responses completely unrelated. They sat in agitated silence until the car stopped, Dib pulled out the keys and walked into the establishment without so much of a sound. Zim let out a deep, soulful sigh and followed the human inside to a small booth. 

The place was... poorly kept to be put nicely. Had Zim had his cleaning goggles, he was pretty sure he would be having an aneurism right now. He stared at the seat he was to take and places napkins down before resting. He didn’t care if he was hungry and tired, he still had standards, dammit. 

An older, stout woman approached the table, handed a few menus and aggressively walked away, threatening to be back in a few minutes. Dib hadnt touched his menu, Zim already knowing exactly what the human desired. The hamburgers and frenched fries. Every single time they went out, it was the same thing. Zim could recite the order in his sleep. Perhaps Zim would get a salad? Maybe a piece of pie? Hmmm... 

“So.... let’s talk.” Dib mumbled, seemingly out of nowhere, his voice almost faint enough to get lost in the terrible music and background chatter. The elite could feel his antenna perk beneath his wig and focused all of his attention to the meat bag in front of him, placing the menu down.

“Spill the tea, sister.”  
“Where did you learn THAT?”  
“Use your words, Dib-smelly.”  
“So... back there... you know we were separated and it took forever for me to come back...”  
“Zim remembers quite well. Thrown in a government interrogation room ALONE- in a place he did not wish to be in IN THE FIRST PLACE MAY I REMIND YOU- expecting to be ravaged and dissected at any moment. Zim’s superior memory has stored this.”  
“Well... what did they ask you?”  
“If Zim knew where he was. If he was safe. That he was there not against his will. Why?”  
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”  
“More confusing than anything, honestly. But the point still stands- I DID NOT WISH TO BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, DIB-SHIT. Now stop avoiding Zim’s questions- WHAT HAPPENED?”  
“They...” he mumbled, playing with the soap scum stained fork left on the table “they... questioned me about my lineage. Where I was from. Who my family was. If I had proof of being a citizen.”  
“Sounds a bit intrusive.”  
“Then they were asking stuff about human culture. If I knew who the president was. What the national anthem was. Finally, after asking me the 30th question- it hit me-“  
“?”  
“Man... I shouldn’t be telling you this...”  
“You began this conversation and you shall see it through. Release the information from your face-hole.”  
“They...” he mumbled even lower, his voice barely audible “thought... I was an alien.”  
“Of the illegal kind? Rather rude of them considered your Spanish heritage to assume such a thing. Very discriminatory.”  
“Not that kind of alien, space-boy.”

All at once, Dib felt the frustration of the day dissipate into the void. The gears clicked into place in Zim’s mind, it was readable by the always expressive look on his face, and not a single soul in the restaurant was prepared for the roar of laughter that suddenly filled the air. It was a cackle the investigator had never heard before from the Irken. Not one of power, pride and malice. No...this was a genuine, pure laugh. It was music to the hostile air oozing from the booth. 

Removing his glasses as they fogged with tears, he too let out a belt of chuckles- trying and failing marvelously to keep them contained. Even with his poor eyesight, Dib could see (and feel) the glares of the other patrons shooting daggers at them but honestly was so relieved and calmed by Zim’s sudden outburst that he didn’t care. He couldn’t. It was a breath of fresh air after a dangerous rain storm. 

Eventually, the two calmed down, their chests pained from how hearty the noises had been and tried to catch their breaths. They looked back up at each other and uttered a few snickers, but honestly nothing compared to the assault they sprung on everyone around them just a few minutes prior.

“I needed that laugh.” the 22 year old said, putting his glasses back on.  
“Agreed” smiled his companion, eyes as bloodshot had they been without his disguise. “What morons your species are.”  
“For real. Like... they literally HAD YOU , a green skinned alien man, in their base. And I AM the issue here.”  
“That is the perfect summary of your life, human.”  
“Tell me about it. Fuckin’ idiots.”  
“Say... Zim has an idea. How would you feel about taking another drive back there?”  
“YOU? WANNA GO BACK? What kinda twilight zone shit is this?”  
“Well? Shall we return to the ground zero of ample stupidity, pig-smelly?”  
“Hey. Almost got arrested once today, I guess one more time won’t hurt.” 

The waitress appeared shortly after, her mood somehow fouler than before and took their orders. The two ate, conversed, laughed and then paid. Once again, they were on the road, but even though they were going to the same place they had previously been, the ambiance was so different. What was once a ride of annoyance and bitterness was now a rowdy, loud trip of laughs and shit talking. Something they both loved to do. Important conversations had to be had-! Like what the other thought of the waitress’ full and luscious mustache. 

They were quite a bit away from where they were parked before when Zim suddenly demanded the car to be pulled over. Dib followed the order, staring confused as the Irken ran from his seat and back into the blistering sun. He exited the car himself, leaving the AC on for their arrival back. 

“What are we doing out here, space boy?”

He watched as Zim spun around, wide smirk on his face and requested the human’s camera phone. With great hesitation, he handed it over. Usually, he would have never done such a thing but this bubbling joy pouring from the small extraterrestrial frame, Dib just couldn’t deny his request. There was something about Zim... this Zim... this HAPPY ZIM... he just needed. Like a warm hug after a bad day. Like a cold beer after an annoying shift. Like a brilliant light in the blackness of life’s uncertainty. He was drawn to it, wishing to keep it within him forever. 

Zim only found all this out later though however at that moment, He had felt a very similar feeling growing inside him. He hummed as he took his contacts out and let his lekku free. Dib panicked, reminding him where they were and this is SUPER DANGEROUS. 

“You forget, human. These meat things are idiots. Now, join Zim! We shall take a photograph to commemorate our escape of your dreaded government facility!” He sang as he stared through the phone screen, adjusted himself to where the base could be seen in the distance of the shot. 

Dib could only smile and waltz over. This little shit of his. 

“Wait, Dib-stink! We are not done yet! Behold! We shall be telling the base to do the off of fucking!” He said flipping off towards the distance. 

Whatever urge possessed Dib, he was unsure, as he reached down, snatching the camera from the small hands. The magenta eyes slightly squinted in annoyance until he was hoisted upwards, shock replacing the previously dominant emotion. The human cradled the small form close to him, keeping a tight grip as to not let This precious cargo fall. “We can get a better shot with you up here” he snorted, adjusting his glasses. The warmth was back in Zim’s spooch. “S-sure.” He mumbled. With that, the button was touched and the memory solidified. 

Plopped back to reality, he stared at the photograph. The two of them, giant grins stretching the majority of their faces, cheeks brightly blushing. If only he knew how much that one day changed everything. How the trip brought the two closer than they had ever been. 

He wouldn’t have believed that Being captured by earth authority would be far less terrifying than the motel they stayed in that night after being informed multi-bed rooms were sold out. The uncomfortable travel the second day suddenly became a time where the pair stayed up majority of night, getting to know each other on a far deeper level, connecting and realizing how much each needed the other. 

The day where the Irken laid in that shitty, awfully uncomfortable rented bed, reading his tablet as the night carried on, largely ignoring the slight snoring happening alongside him. Without so much as a warning, a strong, soft hand brushed against his cheek. Glancing over, he met dazed, honey eyes and a weak, exhausted smile. He felt so at ease staring at the human’s face and smiled back, a warm flutter in his chest.  
“I had...fun...Thanks...for today...” he mumbled, half asleep.

Zim offered a soft smile back, placing his tablet down beside him and gently wrapping his small hands around the other’s, turning his body to look eye to eye. “As did Zim. May tomorrow be equally as enjoyable.”

Dib’s heavy eyelids sagged, the half awake brain trying desperately to locate the words it wanted to release. There was a moment of silence. He slurred as unconsciousness overtook him yet again “everyday is perfect with you around, space-boy.” With that, his breathing slowed and evened, returning him to a state of peaceful, drooly, slumber. 

Emotionally puzzled, the elite spent the next 3 hours lost in his own thoughts, grasping at any straws to make his feelings tie together. There was something to be found in this specific wad of meats and nerves and guts that filled this painful hole his people left behind, soothing and healing the painful gash. 

This human, shunned by his own, filled with passion and drive others around him saw as a nuisance. This human, hiding the constant drowning in the sea of his own misery and self destruction. This human, HIS HUMAN, was the only creature in all the galaxies to understand his horrific, dysfunctional upbringing of the Irken empire and offer him a heart to unwind into. A shameless shoulder to defectively cry on (which is something he unfortunately yet understandably done many, many times). His train of thought making a PowerPoint presentation to help the Irken understand. Eventually, it stuck. 

The following morning, as the pair chatted, prepping and packing for the long trip back, it became clear Dib had no knowledge of the events of the night before. Zim, however, had come into the new day feeling like a brand new organism, completely changed from the him of yesterday. It was clear. He was in love with Dib and would do anything in his power to (hopefully) make the other feel the same way. But for now, he will keep this to himself, bringing it to light when the time came. 

And so, Zim patiently waited, keeping this “secret” hidden in plain sight. Dib eventually got his shit together and asked the invader out shortly after that Christmas where the two of them exchanged “gag gifts”. Their presents set the chain of events into motion. Dib gave his gift first, a poorly wrapped box held together for dear life with tape. Poor Zim battled the tape demon for what seemed like an eternity before finding a red shirt with black lettering reading “I am an alien that survived Area 51” with a tacky “alien” face underneath. 

Much like the day at the diner, the Irken belted out a series of screeching guffaws and hastily handed his Gift over, demanding it to be opened immediately. Quickly opening the box himself- he realized why the Irken was so tickled. What stared him back was a blue t-shirt with black lettering “I’m not an alien and got captured at Area 51.” 

The night at the motel came up in conversation, Dib revealing he remembered all of what happened but was too scared to accept it in fear that he would be ruining their friendship, the thing he most cherished. They agreed that there was SOMETHING between them but wouldn’t pursue it, just letting nature’s (fate’s) coarse guide them. And fate did just that. 

Dating. Hand holding. Kissing. Exploration. Discovery. Incredibly awkward firsts. Tears. Arguments. Adjustments. Laughter. Hugs. Unity. Moving in together. Hardships. Snuggles. Marriage. Each phrase flooding Zim’s brain with a plethora of memories as he skimmed across his bedroom. There was so much that these walls held. All of it near and dear to him. Data he uploaded from his PAK to a million different back up systems, praying he would never have to reinstall but never accepting “forgetfulness” as a possibility. He would live and die remembering every little thing. 

He treaded through the darkness, approaching the messy ball of sheets and pillows. He peeled layer after layer away revealing the face of the not-so elegant sleeper. Drool crusted down the side of the cheek. Hair a wild animal unable to be tamed. What a mess. And yet, every morning, his husband seemed to get more and more attractive. Zim’s soul falling deeper and deeper into this gorgeous, warm blanket of love. 

As the sun rose and fell, as the clock turned and ticked time away, as life sped by at an unfathomable pace... nothing else mattered besides this moment. Another day with his Dib. Another 24 hours of his human’s affectionate warmth. And Zim always made sure he was the first thing Dib saw when awoken. To remind him that he is loved. To remind Dib he isn’t alone. To remind HIMSELF that something greater exists in this universe and he had the ability to take his destiny into his own hands. To remind them both that all they needed was each other. 

The Irken reached to his lover’s face, shifting the hair away from his forehead to gave a gentle kiss. Honey eyes hesitantly fluttered open, meeting pools of marvelous magenta and instantly melting. 

“Good morning, Zim.” He smiled, caressing the side of Zim’s smooth, green, forever blushing face.  
“Good morning, Dib-mate.”

This was his favorite part of the day.


End file.
